【生肉搬运】Shrike伯劳鸟 第二章(22)

One time, in the aftermath of war, they stood on a hill overseeing the wreckage. There was no real reason to linger. The white flags of surrender had been raised, the enemy lines—or, what was left of it, after the gods had done their work—had retreated, and all that was left was the grim cleanup. But still, inexplicably, the two of them stayed for longer than they should have, watching silently as soldiers dragged their dead onto carts and wagons to be taken home for burial.